


we've got mistletoe and firelight

by wisdom_walks_alone



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Super Sons (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Growing Up Together, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28471110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisdom_walks_alone/pseuds/wisdom_walks_alone
Summary: Damian and Jon celebrating Christmas through the years. Things change, but some will always stay the same.
Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne
Comments: 3
Kudos: 72





	we've got mistletoe and firelight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Queerbutstillhere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queerbutstillhere/gifts).



> this is a christmas gift for my wonderful friend [korey](http://queerbutstillhere.tumblr.com)!! sorry it's a bit late babe LOL
> 
> title from the song [my song for you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fDI0HIhOg70)! (yes it's the one from good luck charlie)

The first Christmas was spent in Hamilton County, at Jon and his family’s house. It was snowing. Jon was just about to lose hope for a white Christmas, but mother nature seemed to pull through.

There was excitement in the air, as there always was during this time of year, and Jon was watching as the snow fell lazily outside the window.

"Down, boy," his mom chided, chuckling and putting a hand on his back as he realized he was hovering.

"Sorry, Mom." Jon lowered himself back onto the couch, a sheepish smile on his face.

Mom shook her head, smiling herself. "It's fine, Jon. You know powers are fine in the house, I just don't want you getting in the habit of using them without realizing."

"I know, Mom, I'll be careful," Jon assured her. She ruffled his hair, was met with his protests, then disappeared back into the kitchen to check on dinner.

Just then, Dad walked out of the kitchen, a steaming mug in each hand. He handed the one piled high with whipped cream to Jon, who thanked him avidly. "I would say it's hot and to be careful, but I'm not sure that really matters anymore," Dad commented, and Jon took a tentative sip of his hot chocolate to test it.

It felt fine to him, so he shrugged. "Don't think so. Tastes good, though."

Dad smiled. "You got a little something on your lip there." He pointed and Jon went cross-eyed for a second, then licked the whipped cream off his lips. "You're a bit too young to be shaving, still."

Jon rolled his eyes. "Daaad, you're not nearly as funny as you think you are sometimes."

"It's Christmas, Jon, humor me."

Jon stuck his tongue out and took another sip of hot chocolate.

When the doorbell rang, Jon was the first one up, at the door in a split second, mug left forgotten on the coffee table. “Damian!”

Damian stood in the door, wearing a long coat and a nice shirt and tie, contrasting Jon and his family’s matching sweaters. His dad stood behind him, dressed similarly.

It was a little surreal to have Batman over for Christmas Eve dinner, but then Jon was starting to get used to surreal.

“Bruce, Damian, thank you for joining us!” Jon’s dad came up behind him, placing a hand on Jon’s shoulder. 

“Thank you for having us, Clark,” Mr. Wayne replied, stepping inside and reaching to shake his hand.

“Hello, Corncob.” Damian brushed snow off of his shoulder before shrugging his coat off, handing it to his father when he held out a hand for it.

“You can hang those right here.” Dad gestured to the coat rack. “Dinner’s almost ready. And Lois made pie!”

“Can’t wait. It’s been too long since I’ve had Lois’s pie,” Mr. Wayne said.

“Me, too,” Dad agreed.

“Mom made pie last week,” Jon commented, looking at his dad quizzically.

“Exactly,” Dad replied solemnly.

Damian shakes his head. “Tt.”

Dinner went by without much fanfare. And Mom's pie was delicious, as always. Dad had three slices and Damian's dad had two. Luckily, Mom had thought ahead and made two pies. Always one for preparedness.

Once they were all full and done, Damian wiped his mouth and stood. "Now that dinner is finished, I believe it is time for the main event…" He paused, looking around at all of them. Drama queen. "Presents."

"Yes!" Jon leapt out of his seat and made a beeline for the tree.

"Just one, Jon!" Mom called after him. "It's only Christmas Eve!"

Damian met him by the tree, picking up a box that Jon knew wasn't there before. "Here, open mine."

Jon took the box slowly, looking at Damian. "Really? For me?"

Damian scoffed and turned away. "Yes, Jonathan, for you. Who else would it be for?"

Jon smiled widely. "So we are friends,” he said, smile turning devilish.

“Tt. Don't push your luck.”

“You loooove me,” Jon taunted, floating over Damian’s head. “Can’t get enough of me!”

“Just open your present, Hayseed.”

Jon laughed, landing cross-legged on the floor. He started tearing open the wrapping paper, eyes widening when he saw what was inside.

"Monk-E-Monsters! I've wanted this game for months! How did you know?"

Damian shrugged, a knowing smirk on his face. "I'm Robin," he said simply.

"But I thought it was all sold out until after the Christmas season," Jon remembered, looking at him quizzically.

Damian shrugged again. "I'm also Damian Wayne. I pulled a few strings."

Jon grinned and threw himself at his friend (they were friends, whether Damian liked it or not). "Thanks, Damian."

Damian froze for a second, then relaxed. "Of course," he replied, patting Jon on the back. "Merry Christmas, Jon."

Wayne Manor was always cold this time of year. It was an unbelievably old house, and unbelievably big. But gathered in one of the smaller living rooms by a roaring fireplace, it wasn't so bad.

Decorations covered so many of the rooms that Jon would have thought it impossible if he didn’t know who lived here. Even then, the bats must have really had to pull together for something like this—probably all under Alfred’s watchful eye, of course.

A good amount of the caped community was here for one big Christmas party. Jon and Damian's dads were talking with some other members of the League. Dick and his friends were testing how many ornaments he could juggle before dropping one. From his vantage point, Jon guessed they were up to eight or so. He could see some more of Batman's allies in the hallway, Kate and Duke sitting on the stairs chatting, Harper, Cass, and Steph giggling over something on their phones. Conner was hanging out with Tim and the rest of their Titans team, while Jon and Damian sat on the couch with their own Titans playing Super Smash Bros.

"Again?" Gar whined, throwing his hands up.

"Man, you gotta let someone else win every once in a while," Wally added, already resigned. He and Gar sat on the floor, Damian on the couch with Emiko on one side and Jon on the other. Raven sat on Jon's other side, her controller floating in front of her, most of her attention taken up by her drink and her book.

Damian shrugged. "Emiko wins sometimes. So does Raven, when she's paying attention."

"We mean you should let one of  _ us _ win for once!" Gar wailed.

"You'd win if you were good at the game."

"You little sh—"

"Hey, hey, hey." Jon put a hand on Gar's shoulder to keep him from lunging at Damian. "We are not having a brawl on Christmas."

"But it would be so entertaining," Emiko said disappointedly.

"He is kinda right, though," Raven piped up, not taking her eyes off of her book. "Just get better at the game and maybe you'll win."

"Et tu, RaeRae?" Gar looked up at her, looking like a sad puppy. Literally. He had turned into a little green puppy and was staring up at her pathetically.

Raven wasn't even phased, just turned a page in her book. Jon snorted.

Gar turned back, but the pout remained.

Just then, somebody wolf whistled, and everyone in the room turned to the culprit: Tim. And once everybody saw who it was, they followed his line of sight, right over to Jon and Damian. Jon suddenly felt very vulnerable, which was ironic in of itself, shrinking in on himself a bit while he tried to figure out why everybody was staring at him.

"Hey, Rob." Gar grinned toothily, staring at the space above their heads. Damian's face turned beet red, and Jon looked up to see Kon floating over them, dangling what was unmistakably mistletoe over their heads.

Damian crossed his arms haughtily, pulling a leg closer to his body, clearly trying to downplay his embarrassment. "Tt. As if anyone would partake in your childish holiday games."

Jon couldn't help but laugh. He leaned over, pressing a quick peck to Damian's cheek. "Merry Christmas, Damian." Somehow, Damian's face had managed to turn a deeper shade of red, and he looked away as he pulled his other leg onto the couch.

"Tt. Whatever." Then, when the room had once again filled with chatter and they were about to start another round of Smash, Jon heard Damian mutter a quiet, "Merry Christmas, Jon."

Their first Christmas in their new apartment wasn't looking too shabby, if you asked Jon. He was quite satisfied with the way everything was decorated, by the lights laid out on the TV stand, the tree in the corner letting off a soft glow. Of course, Damian was a perfectionist, so obviously everything would look perfect.

Damian walked out of the kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate, sweater sleeves pulled over his hands, and plopped on the couch next to Jon. He pulled the blanket over his bare legs and tucked himself under Jon’s arm, turning his attention to the Hallmark movie Jon had put on. Jon still didn’t understand the point of wearing shorts with a sweater, and when asked, Damian would just shrug.

He leaned his head on Damian’s, nursing his own mug of hot chocolate. “This is nice,” he said, squeezing Damian a bit tighter.

“Arguable. This movie is maybe mediocre at best,” Daman replied, a smirk audible in his voice.

Jon rolled his eyes. “I don’t mean the movie and you know it.” Damian snorted. “I mean this. You. Me. Us. It’s nice.”

“You’re such a sap,” Damian said, turning his face further into Jon’s chest. “But I agree with the sentiment. I must admit, this is nice.” He played idly with the hem of Jon’s shirt, and Jon pressed a kiss to his head as the movie continued to play.

As the credits rolled, Jon stood up, earning him a whine, with grabby hands following after him as Damian flopped the rest of the way onto the couch. Jon chuckled, walking over to the tree and picking up a small box. He brought it back over to the couch, and Damian’s eyebrows scrunched. “It’s only Christmas Eve,” he pointed out.

“Yeah,” Jon agreed, “but I think you deserve to open one tonight. I hope you like it.” He smiled, holding the box out to his boyfriend.

Damian took the box gingerly, undoing the ribbon carefully and lifting the lid. He pulled out a silver charm bracelet, laying it out on his palm so that he could look at the charms. They were small, nothing fancy, just disks with their initials and a pair of green and blue jewels. “Like I said before, you’re a sap,” Damian told him, but he was smiling. “I love it, thank you.”

He pulled Jon in for a kiss, hand on the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. When they pulled away, Jon gestured to the bracelet, and Damian held out his hand as Jon did the clasp.

Damian smiled. “It’s beautiful. Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome,” Jon said, taking his hands. “Merry Christmas, Damian.”

“Merry Christmas, Jon.”

Damian's never been one for mornings. So when sunlight spills in through the window, all he does is roll over and push his face into the pillow. It smells like lemon scented shampoo.

The bed dips behind him, and strong arms wrap around his waist, pulling him close to a warm body. Damian relaxes into it.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Jon mumbles into his skin, nuzzling into his neck.

Damian pulls Jon’s arms tighter around him, and he feels Jon press a kiss into his shoulder. “Morning, love,” he replies drowsily, his voice still thick with sleep. He twists and rolls over in Jon’s arms to face him, reaching up to brush a lock of hair from Jon’s face. Jon hums, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Daddy! Baba!” a little voice screeches from down the hallway. “Santa was here, Santa was here! Wake up, wake up, Santa was here!”

Damian groans, turning his face back into the pillows. Jon just chuckles. “Your son is calling.”

“Before 8 AM, he’s your son.”

“Was that a Lion King reference? Color me impressed.”

“Ari! Ari, Santa came!”

Damian sits up at that, Jon’s arms falling to his lap. “Sebastian Phillip Wayne-Kent, do not wake your sister up this early in the morning!”

Jon sits up next to him and drags a hand down his face. “It’s too late, she’s awake.”

An excited shriek sounds from Aria’s bedroom, and Damian sighs into his hands. “You heard her, Hayseed. I’m going back to sleep.”

“You can’t go back to sleep, you have to see what Santa brought you,” Jon teases. Damian flops back onto the bed.

“Nope, it’s too early for this, goodnight.”

Too quick for him to process, Damian is standing in Aria’s room, the excited and very awake toddler standing up in her crib, jumping and bouncing. “That’s cheating!” he calls out the door. Jon just cackles from down the hall.

“Ba!” Aria smacks him on the chest.

“Alright, alright, let’s go, you little terror. Santa came last night.” Damian lifts her out of the crib and settles her on his hip, making his way downstairs, the smell of pancakes, eggs, toast, and coffee flooding his nose. Of course Jon already made breakfast. He continues to the living room, where Jon is just barely managing to restrain Bash from opening anything too soon.

When he sees Damian he finally lets go, and Bash zooms over to the tree, floating around as he looks for which gifts are for him. Seeing Bash’s excitement and wanting to follow suit, Aria wriggles free from Damian’s arms and Jon has to use his superspeed to catch her before she hits the floor.

Damian sighs and drops onto the couch beside Jon, watching Aria toddle after Bash, trying to keep up.

“Look, Ari, this one’s for you!” Bash holds out a large box that’s almost as big as Aria. Damian knows there’s a doll in that one.

“Yay!” Aria sits down on the floor with it and starts ripping it open, and Bash finds one to tear open for himself.

“Hey.” Jon gets his attention and holds out a small box, a dopey smile on his face. Damian takes the box gingerly, taking off the lid. It’s a new ID tag clip for his scrubs, with a rubber cartoon cat. He laughs.

“Thank you, habibi, it’s perfect.” Jon clears his throat and glances up for a second, and Damian follows his gaze to where Jon is dangling a piece of mistletoe above their heads. Jon looks at him expectantly, and Damian laughs as he leans in.

“Eeewww,” Bash cuts in, making a disgusted face at them.

“Eeww!” Aria echoes happily, scrunching her nose in an attempt to copy her brother.

Jon rests their foreheads together as they laugh. He looks up at Damian through his lashes and says, “Merry Christmas, Damian.”

Damian smiles. “Merry Christmas, Jon.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! as always, comments and kudos are always appreciated, and feel free to come over and say hi on [my tumblr](http://wisdom-walks-alone.tumblr.com) as well!


End file.
